Binnesman stood leaning on his staff and staring down at the glowing stone, watching an image. As Iome looked at the stone, she could see four mountains spouting smoke and ash and fire. Distantly thunder rumbled, seeming to shake the floor beneath her. The stone revealed an image of volcanoes erupting.

Or at least that is what she thought at first. For these were not common volcanoes. Instead, they were but small domes, where lava gushed like water, and reavers by the tens of thousands boiled out of the ground.

Nor did the Seer's Stone convey the image alone. Iome realized that the odor of sulfur and ash in the air issued from the stone, and the heat radiated by the Seer's Stone warmed the room like a baker's oven. Indeed, she could smell and feel and hear and see everything, just as if she were watching the volcanoes from afar.

Yet Iome had never heard that Binnesman dabbled with Seer's Stones. In fact, he'd denied ever having done so when confronted by Raj Ahten.

Iome stared at the image in the stone, astonished.

"Reavers have surfaced in North Crowthen," the wizard said matter-of-factly. "Others are coming to ground farther south, along the Alcair Mountains. Your keep at Haberd is toppled. Raj Ahten's defenses in Kartish are faring no better.

Even as he said it, the whole of Castle Sylvarresta suddenly trembled as the earth shook. At first Iome thought it was a residual effect from the Seer's Stones arranged on the floor, but the wizard stared up at the walls of the castle, concerned. "It is but a minor tremor," the wizard said. "The Earth is in pain."

Iome glanced at the pair of Days who had taken sanctuary in the dark corner behind her. With their minds paired to those of their fellows, they knew more about the affairs of the Earth than anyone in this room, including the wizard Binnesman. What she saw worried her. Gaborn's Days stared at the scene in horror, mouth gaping.

"What is Raj Ahten doing, attacking me at a time like this?" Gaborn demanded. "Does he even know the danger?"

"I doubt that he sees the calamity yet," the wizard answered. "Last I saw, his troops were marching toward Carris, it seemed. At least, they were a few hours ago."

"Where are they now?" Gaborn asked.

Binnesman bowed his head and closed his eyes, as if too weary to continue. Ever since he'd raised his wylde and lost it, he'd suffered from fatigue. "It has been a long day. But I'll try."

The wizard reached down to the dirt floor and rubbed fresh soil upon his palms and on his face. Then he picked up a few crystals, moved them about the edge of the Seer's Stone, pulling some back, moving others left or right, his face a study in concentration.

The process took several minutes, for the wizard had first to locate Raj Ahten's troops, as if seen from a distant mountain, then progressively move to better vantage points.

Yet what Iome eventually saw made the hair stand up on her arms: Raj Ahten's troops were ma.s.sed about a village, a hundred stone houses with thatch roofs. A low wall of stone surrounded the village, one that a knight mounted on a good force horse could easily overleap.

There were no watchmen on the walls, no distant sound of barking dogs. It appeared that the town was unaware of the approaching threat.

"I know that place," Gaborn said. "That is the village of Twynhaven."

The frowth giants in Raj Ahten's army raised their muzzles and sniffed the air hungrily, as if trying to catch the scent of fresh blood. The knights in the retinue held their lances and war axes ready.

But it was Raj Ahten's sorcerers who took the lead.

Three flameweavers spread out in a line, just outside the village wall, and began to chant, soft and reedy. Iome could hear them plainly, yet she could not make out their words, for their chant was a song of fire and consumption, the flickering sounds of flames, the crackle of a log.

Around each of them, gra.s.s and bushes suddenly erupted. Green flames shot skyward, and the flameweavers were engulfed. Iome smelled ash, felt the heat of their flame. They began stalking toward the village, climbed the low stone wall.

Suddenly; the dogs in the town caught sight of them and several began to bay. A horse whinnied nervously.

Still, no voice was raised in alarm.

The flameweavers leapt over the wall, and by now the fires behind them had grown substantial, so that Iome watched the sorcerers from beyond a screen of flame.

Around the village wall, the late summer sun had bleached the gra.s.s, sucked all the moisture from it. The flameweaver to the far left pointed to his left, and a tendril of flame shot from his hand and raced around the wall faster than a good horse could run. The flameweaver to the right did the same. In seconds, the two bolts of flame met at the far end of the city, and it was circled in fire.

Then the fire leapt skyward and began to rush toward the center of the circle.

A woman screamed and ran from her house at the edge of the village, gaping in dismay. Others began to follow her from their homes--children and mothers. Some horses knocked down a corral, raced round the town, bucking wildly.

The flameweavers advanced on the village now. The rising inferno was feeding them, giving them energy. One flameweaver pointed at a large barn; and the thatch of its roof caught fire, seemed almost to explode.

Seconds later, one of his fellows approached a house, sent a rope of flame twisting toward it, so that its roof and all its timbers inside were consumed at once. The heat of it fairly smote Iome.

People screamed within the house, and a burly townsman raced from it, his hair and clothes afire. A woman and her son raced out, the boy bearing a shield. His armor and his eyes reflected the flames. Firelit smoke made the scene bright.

The smell of smoke came strong to Iome's nostrils.

The whole town suddenly erupted into an inferno, and the flames whirled high into the air, a hundred, two hundred yards. The flameweavers began chanting louder as they walked into that inferno, and they themselves became glowing worms of light, writhing beside the townspeople who died.

"They're sacrificing those people to the Power they serve," Binnesman said in horror, and the wizard turned away from his Seer's Stone. "This is a black summoning."

"This is the source of my terror," Gaborn said.

The flames encompa.s.sing the village slowly turned green, the several fires within it coalescing into some strange wonderland of otherworldly shadows. Within moments, the rock walls of the cottages and the stone fences all began to dissolve into molten puddles.

It happened quickly, Iome thought. The town was soon leveled; the bones of every carca.s.s, both of man and animal, were licked clean by flames.

It did not take the normal hours of teasing and coaxing that Iome thought would be required to perform a summoning. Perhaps the sacrifice strengthened the flameweavers' spell. The flameweavers sang and danced like living flames.

Within an hour, a green glowing portal appeared on the ground, and the flameweavers stood before it, calling in the tongues of flames and ashes.

Nothing came forth, until one flameweaver walked to the portal and disappeared into the netherworld.

Almost instantly, the flames around the city diminished, puffed out into utter blackness. Only an occasional coal in the blackness still burned.

For a long moment, Iome held her breath, believing that a flameweaver had died, that he'd disappeared into the netherworld, never to return.

Then, among the ashes, she saw two forms take shape, writhing like wrestlers, she thought at first. But no, she decided, they were writhing like men who have struggled to crawl the last few yards of a long and difficult journey.

One was the dark shape of the flameweaver, half-covered with ashes.

Beside him was a larger form, like that of a dark man with a s.h.a.ggy mane of long curly hair. But he glowed with a pure blue light, as if he were made of crystal. Flames rippled and played on his flesh.

The lumbering fellow staggered to his feet, and fanned wide his resplendent wings. Lightning seemed to flicker across his brow, and it glowed fiercely in his eyes.

Everywhere, among the ranks of Raj Ahten's troops, hardened soldiers cried out in astonishment, while war dogs backed away and snarled in terror.

"By the Powers," Gaborn said, "he's summoned a Glory!"

But what kind of Glory? Iome wondered. For in the ages past, it was said that at the battle of Vaderlee's Gorge, the Earth King Erden Geboren once fought with one Glory on his right hand and another on his left. They were said to be irrepressible opponents. She'd thought them to be the beneficiaries of mankind.

Yet this youth had a fell look in his eye as he wrapped his wings about his shoulders, and the light streaming from him became the blackest abyss.

"Do not be misled," Binnesman said. "He is not like the Glories revered in ancient tales. He is a Darkling Glory. This creature comes to slay an Earth King, not to save one."

"How soon?" Gaborn asked. "When will it come?" Binnesman went to a small table and retrieved a large tome, an illuminated ma.n.u.script that depicted various creatures of the Earth. He flipped through his bestiary, to the pages that dealt with creatures of the netherworld. The notations for a Darkling Glory were scant, and lacked even a crude drawing. Obviously, even among the wise, this beast was the stuff of mere legend. "It is a creature of air and darkness," Binnesman said: "It will fly to you, and most likely it will wait to attack until night. I think it is too far away to reach us today. But tomorrow night, or the night after, it will surely come."

"What should I do?" Gaborn asked.

Binnesman didn't answer, merely frowned as he read the entry on Darkling Glories. Iome realized that he had no answer.

"That fool, Raj Ahten," the wizard muttered, "to loose, such a monster now."

Binnesman knelt by his crystals, nudged one a hairsbreadth, and shifted his view so that he could better see Raj Ahten's army.

For a long moment he stared, then he spoke to Gaborn. "I don't see Raj Ahten himself. Where could he be?"

Gaborn studied the image, too. "It's dark there. Maybe he's in the shadows, near the rear."

"No," Binnesman said. "He would be at the forefront, to greet his new amba.s.sador. He's gone. He's split off from his main army for some reason."

"But why?" Gaborn asked. "Can you find him?"

Binnesman shook his head and frowned. "I doubt it. An army, a volcano--these are easy to spot. But one man, riding in the night? It could take me days, and I'm at the end of my strength."

Binnesman turned away from the Seer's Stone, and the image faded altogether, though the glowing crystals still provided some small light for the room. In that light, the wizard looked ill-used. Only a week before, his robes had been green, the color of leaves in high summer. But then he'd tried to summon a wylde, a creature of the Earth that would strengthen his powers. Unfortunately, the wylde had been lost, and Binnesman was now weary and weakened.

"I have been studying the volcanoes," he said glumly, "trying to figure out the reavers' plan of attack.

"I must admit that it makes little sense to me. The reavers are surfacing in places that are far apart from one another, and most of them are far from any human habitation.

"But one thing I have noticed. They arise in places where there is already an old volcano nearby, or regions filled with hot springs or geysers."

"Which means?" Gaborn asked.

"There is a realm of fire at the heart of the earth,"

Binnesman said, "as you yourself saw when we reached the Idymean Sea.

"I think," Binnesman continued, "that in some places, this realm of fire comes closer to the earth's surface than in others. That is where hot springs form, and volcanoes arise. Now I wonder if perhaps the heat is driving the reavers to the surface."

Gaborn changed the subject. "It is of more immediate concern that Raj Ahten is preparing to attack Mystarria in earnest. I'll need to convene a council with my war leaders."

"War with Raj Ahten?" Binnesman asked. "Are you sure that is wise, with so many reavers surfacing?"

Gaborn sighed heavily. "No. But if I do not at least give some sign that I will fight him, Raj Ahten may do more damage. I can only hope that once he learns of the danger in his own lands he will retreat to Indhopal and look after his own defense. I may even be able to negotiate a truce."

The wizard studied Gaborn thoughtfully. "You may try to reclaim Raj Ahten if you want," Binnesman said. "But I don't know if even you can save him. Remember that I cursed him a week ago. Such curses take time to reach their full effect, but I suspect that now you cannot help him."

"For the sake of my people, I must try," Gaborn said.

Binnesman peered up at him from beneath a bushy brow. "And for the sake of your people, I must warn you: Raj Ahten is not likely to take counsel from an enemy. You will be placing yourself in grave danger when you go before him. It may be that he is even trying to draw you into battle, for he knows that he cannot attack you here, so close to the Dunnwood, where the wights protect you."

"I know," Gaborn said uneasily. "Will you come with me, then?"

"You know that I have no strength in war," Binnesman said, "but I may follow in a day or two and offer what help I can. As for now, I must prepare to face the Darkling Glory, and I must meet it alone."

"You?" Gaborn asked: "Alone, without a wylde? I can marshal fifty thousand knights to fight at your side."

"And they would avail you nothing--merely get themselves killed," Binnesman said.

"What weapons can you muster?" Gaborn asked.

"I...don't know yet," Binnesman said. "I'll have to think of something. As for you, convene your war council. Your men know how to fight better than I do. At dawn, warn the people to flee Castle Sylvarresta. Certainly you feel the approaching danger. And now, I must rest."

With no more preamble than that, he staggered toward a corner and lay down on some thick loam. The loam could not have been here long, Iome realized. The floor of the cellar was paved with a few flagstones thrown over hardened dirt. The wizard must have obtained that soil himself; Earth Wardens often administered healing soils to the sick. Iome wondered if the soil he slept in now had any special properties. He pulled handfuls of dirt close to him, and sprinkled some over him, and soon was sleeping peacefully.

Iome looked around. Now the room smelled only faintly of mildew and the clean scents of the wizard's herbs. She could feel earth power here, that strange tingling sensation she got whenever Gaborn or the wizard drew near. Only here it was stronger. Unbidden, the blessing that she'd heard so often lately from Gaborn came to mind. "May the Earth hide you. May the Earth heal you. May the Earth make you its own." This was a place surrounded by Earth.

"Let's go," Gaborn said.

CHAPTER 12.

IN THE KING'S COUNCIL.

Sir Borenson woke Myrrima with only a little shaking, and told her his news: Gaborn had requested her attendance at a council meeting.

"Are you certain that he wants me?" Myrrima asked, bewildered. She'd come after dinner to lie on the bed and had fallen asleep in her clothes. She sat up stiffly.

"I'm sure," Borenson said.

"If he wants to know which autumn flowers will look best in the Great Hall," Myrrima said, "I could counsel him till dawn. But I know nothing of war."

"Gabon likes you," Borenson said, somewhat at a loss himself. She had no skill at war, and Borenson suspected that Gaborn had invited Myrrima as a mere courtesy to him, so that he could spend more time with his new bride before leaving for Inkarra. But he dared not hurt his wife's feelings by telling her so. "Did he not say when he first met you that he wanted you in his court? He respects your opinion."

"But...I feel as if I'm an imposter."

"I'm sure the King feels the same Way himself," Borenson ventured. "A week ago, his greatest worry was whether or not to wear a feather in his cap when he came before Iome to ask for her hand. Now his father is dead, and he must plan a war. A week ago, I am sure that Iome worried most about what color thread to use in her embroidery, but she'll be at the council, too."

"It sounds as if he has invited everyone in the kingdom to his council!" Myrrima said in surprise.

"Not everyone. Chancellor Rodderman and Jureem will attend, as will Erin Connal, King Orwynne, High Marshal Skalbairn, and Lord Ingris of Lysle."

Frowning thoughtfully, Myrrima rose from the bed, glanced in a mirror, and began combing out her long dark hair. Borenson felt unsure of his own place at this council. He was now. after all, a blank shield by avowal.

A few days ago, he had promised to give himself two weeks to prepare for his journey to Inkarra. He'd wanted time to say goodbye to his homeland and to his wife. He'd thought he'd have that time. But then Borenson had also believed that Raj Ahten would flee home to Indhopal for the winter. Instead, the Wolf Lord was driving south, straight into the heart of Mystarria, giving Gaborn no respite. Now Gaborn was stuck up here in Heredon, all but severed from his own realm and from his counselors.

So Borenson had not been able to bring himself to head south on his quest to Inkarra. Not while his friend still needed counsel. Though as a Knight Equitable, Borenson was free to leave, until tonight, he'd chosen to stay.